


Weird Love

by EllieRose101



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:41:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23207164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieRose101/pseuds/EllieRose101
Summary: “Weird love's better than no love.”Buffy’s vision quest turns out slightly differently, and Spike has a quest all his own. (Goes off-canon at the end of ‘I Was Made to Love You.’)
Relationships: Spike/Buffy Summers
Comments: 2
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Regarding warnings: this fic has adult language, violence, and character death BUT nothing particularly major or graphic.

Spike was seething. The time he’d had to kill between getting kicked out of the Magic Box and nightfall, when he could put his plan into action, had done nothing to improve his mood. If anything, the constant replays in his mind only served to make it all worse.

Humiliate him, would they? Tell him to leave a public place, and stay away from Buffy, like she needed a little band of human bodyguards? It made him sick. Made his blood burn. And worst of it was Dawn. Foolish bastard that he was, he’d considered her a friend. And now, what? He’d aired his feelings for Buffy and was now public enemy bloody number one.

So he’d chained her up. Yeah, not his best move, but that was only so he could keep her there long enough to show her something real. All he wanted was the time of day; the barest smidgen of a chance.

Well, it was all fucked now. Time for plan bloody B: getting his rocks back so he could be rid of the lot of them. They wanted him to move on? Wanted to still paint him as the villain, no matter that he’d been willing to sacrifice his sire? His _sire_! Fine. He’d show them all what he was capable of. No more walking around like a wounded puppy begging for scraps.

The sun dipped below the horizon and Spike stubbed out his cigarette. Fucking finally. He swung his crypt door open full and stepped outside. By now, Buffy would definitely have tracked down robo-boy – the mystical Warren – whoever the hell he was. So all Spike had to do was catch her scent and follow it to his house. It wasn’t hard and, thank fuck, it didn’t take long.

Spike knocked on the door and snuck a quick look back at the mailbox in the time it took a lady to answer. He beamed wide as she opened the door.

“Mrs. Mears, is it? I’m a friend of Warren’s. This is the right house, isn’t it?”

“Oh,” she said with a blush, pulling her robe more tightly around her middle. “It’s ‘ _Ms_ ’, but yes. Warren’s home. Shall I get him for you? Mr, umm?”

He held out his hand. “The name’s William, but my friends call me Spike.”

“Spike,” she said decidedly, her eyes practically glittering. “Nice to meet you.” Oh, yeah, she wanted to be friends all right. Wasn’t that handy?

“No need to disturb Warren,” he said easily. “If I could just….” He gestured and she opened the door wider.

“Of course, come on in. He’s down in the basement. The door’s through here in the kitchen. Can I get you a drink?”

“Ta, love. I’ll be fine.” Spike casually looked around. House was nice enough. Not a million miles away from what Joyce had. “Warren alone, is he?”

“Yes. His girlfriend was here earlier, but I think she’s gone now. I’m supposing you’re here to cheer him up.”

“Yeah,” said Spike, grinning at her again. “Something like that.”

He walked down the stairs quiet as a cat while _Ms._ Mears clattered about in the kitchen above. Warren jumped when Spike entered, sending a thrill through him.

“Who are you?” demanded Warren, looking between Spike and the stairs. “What are you doing here?”

“Friend of your mum’s,” Spike lied, his body language entirely casual. “Also acquainted with your little robot girlfriend.” His gaze hardened. “Bitch threw me through a window.”

Warren forced a laugh – high, almost hysterical – and Spike grinned. He was pretty sure he could get him to piss his pants if he wanted to.

“I reckon you owe me a favor.”

“I’m not making any more girls,” said Warren quickly, his beady eyes scanning around for an escape.

“Not after a bird,” said Spike, circling him. He picked up some knickknacks and tossed them from hand to hand before sitting down on a workbench. “Got some hardware I need you to look at.”

Warren gaped like a fish. “H-hardware?” he questioned. “If that’s a euphemism, I–”

Spike rolled his eyes and cut to the chase. “I have a microchip in my brain. Want you to remove it for me.”

“A chip?” Warren looked puzzled, but also curious. “What does it do?”

“None of your bloody business!”

“Right. Er… right. I mean, I can’t do that. That’s brain surgery!”

Spike sighed. “Figured that out, yeah?” He flashed yellow eyes at him before turning them back to blue. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a _vampire_. I’ll be fine. Just crack me open and whip it out. Not givin’ you a choice.”

Warren visibly paled but was still hesitating.

“Look,” said Spike, balling Warren’s t-shirt in his first and yanking him forward. “You do this for me, I’ll leave you alone, all right?” He let a sly smile slide across his face. “Your mum too. Play any games and….” Spike snapped one of the action figures he’d been fiddling with.

Warren didn’t take any more convincing. Funny, that.

Spike wished he could set up a couple of mirrors so he could keep an eye on what was going on back there, but of course that was out. He had to take the pissant’s word he was doing the job right.

It took a bloody age, with Warren fannying about with scanners and whatnot before even making the first incision. Spike was beginning to think he was stalling when, finally, there was a sharp tug and some disgustingly squishy sounds.

“Oh, god!” Spike clutched his temples, his voice slurring. “Tell me you got the bloody thing!”

“I did,” Warren assured him. “It’s out!”

“Show me!” Spike snarled, snatching the offending device from Warren when he brought it over. It sure looked like a microchip, but from all the tech lying around, he could have easily plucked it from something else. “You got a camera?”

Warren lifted one from nearby and held it up. “What do you–”

“A photo,” said Spike. “Take a photo of where you took it out. I wanna see.”

“It’s bloody,” said Warren. “There’s not much to–”

“Now!” Spike snapped, which caused Warren’s mum to call down the stairs and ask if everything was okay.

“Everything’s fine!” Warren called back, quickly snapping the picture and pulling it up on the display screen.

Spike squinted at it. It really was hard to tell what was going on with all the blood, but he supposed there wasn’t much more he could do to ensure Warren had fulfilled his end of the bargain. Not yet, anyway.

“Right,” he said finally. “Sew me up.”

Warren hopped to it, thankfully without any more questions. The stitches seemed to take less time than the scalpel cuts had, but of course it still hurt like a motherfucker. Spike sat up woozily in practically no time at all.

“Are you sure you should be moving already?” asked Warren. “Don’t you need to, you know, rest or whatever?”

Spike glared at him. “What do you care?”

Warren turned contemplative for a moment. “You’re right, I guess I don’t. You can get out anytime you want.”

That did it. Any goodwill Spike had towards the little prick evaporated as his fangs descended and he pulled him close once more, his hand covering Warren’s mouth to stifle the screams as he bit down on his throat.


	2. Chapter 2

It took a couple of attempts, but Spike finally managed to safely climb down the ladder to the lower part of his crypt and walk the short distance to bed. He was dizzy, though not sure how much of that was down to the first hit of human blood he’d had in an age, the flash of freedom, or the bloody brain surgery.

Spike flopped down onto the bed face first, not bothering to take his clothes off. He could do that later, when all that had happened stopped rushing in his ears: the sound of Warren’s heartbeat as it hammered with fear, the sound of it slowing, and the choked gasps as Spike let him go.

“Y-you bit me!” he’d accused. “You actually bit me, you bastard!”

Spike shrugged. “Had to check the surgery worked, and take a little something to kick start the healing. You’re fine, aren’t you?”

“ _Fine?_ ” Warren baulked. “I am not fine!”

“Hey!” snapped Spike. “I let you live. Keep bitchin’ about it, I might change my mind.”

Warren shut his mouth at that. As he rummaged around for a bandage, Spike climbed the stairs to the ground floor and let himself out. The sky was infuriatingly light, telling him that even more time had passed than he’d thought. Regrettably, he realized he’d have to put off phase two of his plan for another while, but he supposed resting probably was for the best. So he’d crawled home and cursed Buffy until the sun came up, and slept until it was safely dark again and his head no longer felt like it was in a vice. Or like it was in less of a vice. Full healing was still probably a few days away, and that was only if he got more blood in his system. Spike hadn’t taken nearly as much as what he’d wanted to from Warren, but it had helped some.

God, but he was pathetic. Even with his supposed rocks back, Spike hadn’t been able to finish the job. Because precious Buffy wouldn’t like it. How in the hell did she have such a hold on him? And why did it even matter if the next step in his cunning plan was to finally kill the bitch and put them both out of their bloody misery? He groaned and sat up, gingerly running his fingertips over the stitches in the back of his head. They were still raised but his hair had started to come back in around them. They’d be a bitch to get out when the time came, but he’d give them a little longer. A surgeon Warren was not, and proper surgical thread had not been what he’d had to hand, though Spike supposed the dissolvable stitches they used these days wouldn’t be all that effective in vampire flesh.

Spike groaned again as he realized he was stalling over useless thoughts. He climbed to the upper part of his crypt and downed his entire supply of O-neg before sighing. _Better just get bloody on with it,_ he told himself and headed out. Every step he took towards Buffy’s house felt like one closer to the gallows. By the time he’d reached the edge of her front lawn, he’d come to terms with the fact that he couldn’t really do it. The best he could hope for was her taking him out when he gloated about his stupid fucking idiotic plan. He supposed she’d have to, now. He’d gotten his chip out and there was no going back on that. She didn’t trust him, so he’d forced her hand. He was thinking about exactly where he’d stand and what he’d say as she dusted him; wondering if he’d have the balls to try telling her again that he loved her when caught a whiff of something.

He blinked and took another surreptitious sniff of the night air. Yeah, that was death all right. _What the–?_ Spike’s panicked brain hopped from worrying about Buffy to being terrified about Dawn. She was some kind of key, right? All kinds of nasty things were out for her, not to mention that damn bitch of a hellgod. What if she’d actually done it? What if Dawn was gone? His blood boiled and thoughts continued to spiral even as he realized that didn’t add up. If Dawn was dead, the world would have ended, right? Yet here he was, the world still all around. Unless something had gone wrong. Spike’s concern bounced back to Buffy before his ears picked up the sound of talking inside.

"I still don't get it.” That was Xander’s voice. Spike stepped closer to catch the rest. “I mean, she was fine, you know? The operation was a success. She was okay."

Oh. _Oh, god no._ Joyce.

\---

Buffy put herself through the motions of getting dressed, of telling Dawn to get up and dressed, telling Dawn to eat breakfast, telling Dawn to stop playing with her food, telling Dawn to hurry up or they’d be late, of smiling and thanking everyone for coming as they neatly filed past the grave. It was an exhaustion like she’d never experienced before.

When everyone finally left her alone and night fell, Buffy found herself glad to feel the familiar tingle at the back of her neck. She turned, expecting to see Spike, and only just managed to hold back her gasp when she found Angel staring at her.

She turned her back on him, not sure how to feel, except vulnerable. She hadn’t called Angel. She _purposefully_ hadn’t called. Had Willow told him? Or was he keeping tabs? It was too much to think about. Things with him were always too hard, and hard was not what she needed right now.

That and other understatements of the century.

At least Spike was easy. Inappropriate and very, _very_ bad, but easy at the same time. Buffy didn’t need a map and a guidebook and a wall calendar just to figure him out. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.

“You look disappointed to see me,” said Angel.

“No,” said Buffy automatically. “I… I don’t know what I am.”

He came to stand beside her. “You waited until it was dark. I figured….”

She looked up at him again. “What?”

He shrugged. “I thought maybe you were waiting for me.”

Buffy closed her eyes. “I was hoping if I stood here long enough, I’d wake up and it would all be over.”

“This is real, Buffy,” said Angel.

She opened her eyes again to glare at him. “I know it’s real!”

He got that look on his face. The one that said he was exasperated – that _she_ was exasperating – and he was trying to be very patient.

“Why are you here?” she asked on a sigh, very much wanting to hit him in his patient head.

“I thought you might need–” Angel began, but Buffy cut him off with another, “No.”

He frowned and she tried so hard not to cry in frustration. “I don’t need this,” she said, calm as she could. “Can we just… not?”

“I can help, Buffy. Whatever you need,” he insisted.

“And if I needed you to stay?” she asked, pointedly.

He looked away.

“I thought so,” said Buffy. She sighed again. “Just go home, Angel.”

He opened his mouth to argue more and she damn near broke. “ _Please,_ ” she pleaded, hating that she had to beg.

“Okay,” he said, though he looked pretty pissed about it. “I… okay.”

Buffy turned her back on him again, refusing to just watch him fade out of her life again. The second he disappeared off the edge of her radar, the tension in her shoulders slacked. She didn’t know whether to be sad or angry. Or she felt both and didn’t know how to make them both fit inside her, and she was scared they’d all come spilling out, and maybe that made her an idiot for turning Angel away, because he could have held her, right? He probably would have, if she asked. But why had he come? Just to hold her only to let her go again? To make her feel worse?

Buffy’s fist lodged itself in the nearest tree and tears pricked her eyes. Because how dare he intrude on her grief? He didn’t get along with her mom – she didn’t like him and Buffy didn’t think he really cared about her one way or the other. Spike was supposed to care about her, and her mom, and Dawn, and where the hell was he, huh?

She hit the tree again and screamed at it. “Stupid, evil, thoughtless vampire!”

By the time she’d crumpled in on herself at the roots, Buffy had no idea which vampire she was even crying about. All she wanted was her mom back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter borrows heavily from ‘Intervention.’ I cannot take credit for the majority of the dialogue (though I have of course tweaked it to my needs).

If Spike knew Angel as well as he thought he did, he’d put money on the git hightailing it over to Sunnydale the second he heard about Joyce just so he could offer the illusion of support to Buffy and wangle his way inside her head just that little bit more.

Prick.

Spike would be angry, except it actually gave him the perfect opportunity to carry out his new plan without the wanker scenting him out. _While the cat’s away,_ and all that.

With a click and a crunch, the door handle of the Hyperion gave way. Spike grinned and silently sent his thanks to Dru for the tip-off of where Angel was holed up these days. The place was fancy but old. Not to Spike’s tastes, but Angel all over.

Spike would have fun cleaning it out. 

He sauntered over to the reception desk and peaked behind, finding a key for the main office easily enough. Once in there, it wasn’t hard to find first the safe and second the cash box. Spike ferreted the cash box directly into one of his duster pockets without bothering to break the lock and set in on playing with the safe. It being Angel’s, it was the old style and not one of those newfangled things that could lock you out after three incorrect pin numbers.

Spike spun the wheel, pondering which combination to try first: Angel’s death date, or the day he’d made Dru. He went with the latter and bingo. Bloody bastard. Just for that, Spike decided to add insult to injury. He pulled out a single dollar bill from the pile of cash, lifted a pen from Angel’s desk, and was about to make reference to his good old ‘ _you can take what you want, have what you want, but nothing is yours’_ speech but changed his mind at the last minute. Because either Angel wouldn’t remember it or, if he did, he’d know how much it had gotten to Spike – for him to remember it all these years later – and that wouldn’t do.

He twiddled the pen between his fingers a moment longer before finally scrawling the word ‘wanker’ across the banknote in all caps and placing it back in the safe. A quick scout around the rest of the rooms and Spike reckoned he had enough for the next phase of his plan. So, without a backward glance, he took off again into the night.

\---

Buffy didn’t think it was possible, but in the couple of days since she’d found her mom on the couch, things just kept getting worse. Now that the funeral was done, she wasn’t sure what to do with herself. She’d realized, belatedly, that all the annoying practicalities had been what were keeping her going. And now they were done, she could focus on her own feelings and boy, howdy was that only the worst idea ever. Dawn was a mess. Buffy couldn’t fall apart now, for her sake if nothing else. What she needed was a distraction except, for whatever reason, the most distracting force in her life hadn’t been around since she’d seen April throw him through a window.

Selfish jerk.

Buffy sighed and lifted another plate from the sink to hand to Dawn. Giles reached for it first, towel in hand, and she shook her head.

“You don't have to help. You cooked.”

“I quite like to cook,” said Giles. “Helping you two out makes me feel useful.”

“Wanna clean out the basement on Saturday?” asked Dawn. “You can feel indispensable.”

Giles gave her a longsuffering look. “How very tempting.”

Buffy smiled and sent Dawn off to hunt for long lost crockery in her bedroom.

“How are you doing?” Giles asked when she was gone.

“Some minutes are harder than others,” said Buffy.

Giles grimaced. “All I can say is, it will get better.”

Buffy finished the dishes and took the towel from Giles to dry her hands. “It has to. We're holding up, though. You know, getting into a routine.”

“Good. Routine's good. In fact, I was thinking that we might return to our training schedule.”

Buffy bit her lip. “I was, um, thinking about maybe taking a break or something.” She set the towel down and walked into the living room, Giles at her heels. “Just ease off for a while. Not get into full slay mode.”

“But you were doing so well,” said Giles.

“You were great, helping me with everything,” said Buffy. “I'm just starting to feel... uneasy about stuff.”

“Stuff?” Giles questioned.

“Training,” Buffy clarified. “Slaying. All of it. It's just....” She rubbed her forehead. “I can beat up the demons until the cows come home, and then I can beat up the cows, but I'm not sure I like what it's doing to me.”

Giles frowned. “But you've mastered so much,” he protested. “I mean, your strength and resilience alone–”

“Yeah. Strength, resilience,” said Buffy. “Those are all words for hardness.” She sighed, not wanting to talk about it but knowing she’d have to explain herself sooner or later. “I'm starting to feel like....” _God, what was the word?_ “Like being the Slayer is turning me into… into stone.”

“Turning you into stone?” repeated Giles. “Buffy–”

She stood up and started pacing. “Think about it. I was never there for Riley, not like I was for Angel. I was terrible to Dawn, and–”

“At a time like this, you’re bound to feel emotionally numb,” said Giles.

“No.” Buffy shook her head. “Before that. Riley left because I was shut down. He's gone. And now my mom is gone, and I loved her more than anything. I….” She took a deep breath to stop herself from crying again. “I don't know if she knew.”

Giles stood up and put a hand on her shoulder. “Joyce knew. Of course she did.”

“I don't know,” said Buffy, honestly. “To slay, to kill... it means being hard on the inside. Maybe being the perfect Slayer means being too hard to love at all. I already feel like I can hardly say the words.” She looked him dead in the eye. “Giles, I love you. Love... love, love, love. Love, Giles. See?” She threw up her hands. “It feels weird!”

“I shouldn't wonder,” Giles murmured.

“Even look at Spike,” she went on.

“Must I?”

“I’m serious. Think about how I reacted to him being interested in me.”

“That’s hardly the same.”

“Isn’t it? I got Willow to disinvite him _before_ his stupid grand gesture. Not because he tied me up, but because he said he loved me. _That_ was his big crime. _That’s_ what had me terrified. Not him, not Dru, the fact that he might actually love me. I mean, how wacked is that?” Before Giles could answer, she continued on. “Where the hell even is he?” she ranted. “He makes this big profession and then – _poof!_ – it’s like he disappeared off the face of the planet. It’s so typical, you know? There’s definitely a pattern here.”

“Well,” said Giles, looking supremely uncomfortable. “Spike did, ah….” He cleared his throat. “Spike was in the Magic Box the other day. We may have… warned him off?”

Buffy grunted. “That’s it? A word of warning was all it took to convince him to go?”

Giles frowned. “It almost sounds like you didn’t….” His face screwed up like he was chewing a lemon, skin and all. “You didn’t want him to leave?”

“No,” said Buffy. “It’s not that. I just….” She sighed. Again. God, that was getting annoying. “I’d really like for someone, just once, to love me and then not go anywhere.”

Giles hugged her and they resettled on the couch. “How serious are you about looking into this?” he asked. “What it means to be a Slayer?”

“Ten,” said Buffy. “I'm serious to the amount of ten.”

“There is something in the Watchers' diaries,” he told her. “A quest.”

“Like finding a grail or something?” Buffy questioned.

“Not a grail. Maybe answers. It would take a day, perhaps two.”

Buffy shook her head. “I'm not leaving Dawn. Not with Glory looking for her.”

As if on cue, Dawn walked in the room. “Sure you can,” she said. “What's the deal?”

“Some Slayers before Buffy found it helpful in regaining their focus, learning more about their role,” said Giles. “There's a sacred place in the desert. It's not far.”

“I'm not leaving you,” Buffy told Dawn.

“If you have to go learn,” she reasoned. “I mean, if it'll help you out... I think you should do it. I can hang with the gang. I'll be okay.”

Buffy had to fight the urge to cry again about her being so mature. “I love you, Dawn. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” said Dawn. “I love you too.”

“No,” said Buffy. “I love you. _Really_ love you.”

“Uh….” Dawn looked between her and Giles. “Okay, gettin' weird.”

“Sorry,” said Buffy. “But it's important that I tell you. Weird love's better than no love.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Gather ‘round, boys.”

Spike waited for the bickering in the bar to settle down. After twenty seconds of no one taking a blind bit of notice to his command, he aimed his beer bottle at the forehead of the nearest goon and hit a bull’s-eye.

Everyone finally turned to look.

Spike glared back at them. “I _said_ gather ‘round. You want your dosh, you do as I say, got it?”

There were grudging grumbles of acceptance, which had Spike on his feet. Grabbing a terribly dressed vamp on his left up by the shirtfront, Spike shoved a stake in his chest and dusted off his hands.

“You know I can find other minions, right?” He was met with a wall of silence and made to reach for the next vamp in line.

“Right!” he squeaked. “Whatever you want. We’re on your side!”

Spike backed down. “All right then. Here’s the deal, if you need a reminder: do the job as I say, get your cash. Fuck about and you get some wood in the chest. Everyone ready?”

“Yes, sir,” they said in chorus.

Spike grinned. “Now that’s more like it.”

\---

Buffy was really starting to think this whole vision quest thing was a huge waste of her time. She’d left Dawn alone for nothing, with not even stupid Spike to watch over her.

So, yeah, she was still mad at him for disappearing. More mad by the minute, in fact. The longer she sat her ass on the cold desert rock, the more bitter she felt about everything.

“Is it really so bad?” asked Joyce, passing her a toasted marshmallow.

Buffy took it but continued to pout. “Yes,” she said, poking at the mallow with her finger. She flinched at the molten center scalding her skin then looked up at her mom with tears in her eyes, her feigned annoyance forgotten in favor of her very real grief. “Why did you have to go away?”

Joyce sighed and sat down on a nearby log. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I didn’t want to.”

“Can you come back?” asked Buffy, hating how much she sounded like a little girl.

“I’m sorry,” Joyce said again.

Buffy looked off into the distance, entirely lost. She had never felt so alone in her life. Not even when she spent that summer in L.A. after killing Angel. Because at least then she’d known in the back of her head that her mom was waiting for her. She rubbed the tears from her eyes and turned back to Joyce only to find her gone.

The chasm in Buffy’s chest cracked wider.

Somewhere distantly, an owl hooted and Buffy jerked awake. _Oh, god._ It was a dream. Only a dream. She pressed her hands to her cheeks and discovered that at least the tears had been real. Buffy shook her head. She was ready to stand up and say ‘screw it’ when a face flickered in the fire.

Buffy squinted her eyes but it was gone again. She pinched herself to double-check she was definitely conscious and not stuck in some second layer of a dream-within-a-dream, and _ouch!_

“Nope, definitely awake. Yay, me.”

She looked back at the fire and felt a presence come over her. The face flashed again in the flames.

“Hey, I know you! You're the first Slayer.”

“This is a form,” said the face. “I am the guide.”

“Okay,” said Buffy. She sat forward. This was her chance, what she’d come here for. _Shoot. I probably should have brought a notebook._ “I–I have a few questions. About being the Slayer? I want to know about love.”

“You think you're losing your ability to love,” said the face. “You're afraid that being the Slayer means losing your humanity.”

“Does it?” asked Buffy.

“You are full of love,” she was reassured. “You love with all of your soul. It's brighter than the fire. Blinding. That's why you pull away from it.”

Buffy’s face scrunched up automatically. “I'm full of love?” she questioned. That didn’t sound right at all. “I'm not losing it?”

“Only if you reject it,” said the face. “Love is pain, and the Slayer forges strength from pain. Love. Give. Forgive. Risk the pain. It is your nature. Love will bring you to your gift.”

“Huh?” Buffy shook her head. “I'm sorry, I'm just a little confused. I'm full of love. That’s, um… nice. Love will lead me to my gift?”

“Yes.”

“So… I'm getting a gift?” asked Buffy. “Or do you mean that… that I have a gift to give to someone else?

"Death is your gift."

"Death is my gift?"

“Love is your gift.”

Buffy held up her hand. “Okay, I’m getting mixed messages here. Or, uh, I’m getting two gifts? If so, can I return the first one?”

“One gift. Death and love.”

“You said I was full of love,” said Buffy. “That means….” She tried to make it add up in her head. “You’re saying _I’m_ the gift?”

“Love and death in one,” said the face. “Not you.”

“What?” Okay, she was getting pissed now. “Can you stop talking in riddles? That doesn’t even–”

The fire flashed and, just as suddenly as the face had appeared, it was gone. Buffy swore under her breath and once more prepared to call it a day and just go home when something else appeared in the fire: an image of Spike fighting Glory. Fighting and, by the look of it, winning.

Buffy’s breath caught. She tried to look closer but the fire went out.

Buffy stared at the darkness for the long while, just to make sure nothing else was going to happen. "Oh, Giles is going to love this." 


	5. Chapter 5

Buffy strode up the path to her house, stomped inside, slammed the door, and then slumped against it, all of her frustration seeping out of her the second she stopped. Several deep breaths later, she looked up to see the concerned faces of her friends staring back at her from their various positions around the living room.

“No luck, huh?” said Xander.

Buffy groaned. “No. No one’s seen Spike. Willy says he’s left town.”

“Who’d have thought he’d finally do that and we’d actually be upset about it,” Xander snarked.

Buffy glared at him and he shut up. She sighed. Willy had also said he was sorry to hear about her mom, and he’d sounded sincere about it, which was nice but also way wiggy. Buffy didn’t want the demon grapevine knowing about her mom. That was private, or it should be, but Buffy couldn’t even have that for herself it seemed.

“So, what now?” asked Dawn.

“Do you really think Spike is the key to defeating Glory?” asked Willow.

“I don’t know,” said Buffy. “I don’t know anything. The vision guide was big with the cryptic.”

“It must be said that previous quests yielded somewhat… mixed results,” allowed Giles.

“Now he tells me.” Buffy sighed again. “I guess she – they? – _the guide_ did answer the main question I went to ask. The Spike/Glory stuff seemed extra, like something the Powers maybe just wanted me to know. Though I still don’t know what any of it meant, really. Any clarity I did feel at the time – which, let’s be honest, wasn’t much – is long gone by now.”

She frowned and went over it all again in her head, trying to make the pieces fit. Don’t reject love. Okay, check, she could do that. _Love. Give. Forgive._ Love, Buffy could do. The guide said she was pretty much built for it. Giving was something she was fine with too. Forgiveness wasn’t really a thing she’d ever had issues with, or so she’d thought. God knows she’d forgiven her friends tons of shit that greater people than her probably would have broken bonds over. So… where did that leave her? Buffy racked her brain for a list of people she was holding a grudge against and, eventually, came up with three names. It was a startling realization; one that made her feel weak.

She sat down and held up a hand to pre-emptively quiet her friends, who had simultaneously opened their mouths to no doubt ask her if she was okay.

Buffy was not okay. She felt sick.

Closing her eyes and taking a steadying breath, Buffy faced her newfound list in turn. One: she had to forgive Spike. That one was probably the easiest, but it still made her feel weird because, as she’d said to Giles, it wasn’t any of Spike’s crap that she was mad at him for. She had been upset because he loved her. Because he was able to love her when he didn’t have a soul, but Angel hadn’t been.

Buffy released her breath and clenched her fists. Spike loved her. She knew he did. If she was truly honest with herself, it shouldn’t even have come as that much of a surprise. There was nothing in Sunnydale for him without Dru, especially since he’d gotten his chip, yet he’d stayed. He could have travelled the world, gotten blood and violence in lots of ways that didn’t involve directly hurting people. He could have gone anywhere and done anything but he hadn’t. Spike had stayed even though he didn’t have Buffy; even though he had no reason to think he’d ever have her. He’d stayed when Angel hadn’t.

Buffy unclenched her fists and made a conscious decision to forgive him. She had to, if she had any chance of working her way through the other two people on her list.

Two: Buffy needed to forgive her mom. Because she’d died. Buffy needed her and Dawn needed her and now neither of them had her any more. Of course she recognized the anger as irrational, but it was there nonetheless, and she had to let it go. So she did. It was a sheer force of will, but Buffy forgave her mother.

Then there was the biggy: Buffy had to forgive herself. For not getting home soon enough to save her mom, for being mad at her mom in the first place, and for holding herself accountable for all the Angel stuff when, she could see now, a lot of it was down to him. He didn’t stay, not because of her – not because she was deficient, or not good enough – but because of himself. Spike proved that.

“Uh, Buffy?” asked Xander tentatively.

“Shh,” she told him. “Thinking.” 

He went quiet again and Buffy let the aftershocks of her realizations rock through her until she felt strong enough to move on. It took a few minutes, but finally a big weight she hadn’t even known she’d been carrying eased off her shoulders.

Okay, what was next? Love and death was her gift. That had to mean Spike, right? The guide did say it wasn’t talking about her with that particular line, and the death part definitely fit Spike, but love? She’d been purposefully trying not to think about him and love in the same context for days, but Buffy had to admit – even to herself – that she’d not been able to do much else in the waking moments that she hadn’t spent lost in a pit of her own grief. Now that she’d admitted that he really loved her, she supposed she might as well give up the rest of her denial, too.

He was self-confessedly love’s bitch. _So… he’s love and death wrapped all the way up in human skin. Or, uh, vampire skin. Whatever. The point is, Spike’s my gift. That’s… weird, but fine. Except what does him being my gift mean? Ugh!_

Buffy opened her eyes and stood up. For all her mental gymnastics, she was back where she’d started: fairly sure that Spike was a key part to solving the whole Glory situation but still not having a clue where to find him.

As she tried to figure out something to tell her friends to account for her weird silent mediation, Buffy was interrupted by the phone ringing.

\---

Spike ran straight through the ‘Welcome to Sunnydale’ sign and kept right on until he reached a gas station with a payphone. Once there, he pulled over and searched his pockets for some change. Nothing.

One of the vamps in the cars trailing him rolled down their window and asked what the hold up was.

Spoke glared at him, ignoring the question. “You got any quarters?”

“Why?”

_Seriously?_ Spike rolled his eyes and stomped over to the other car. He pulled the vamp through the window and beat his head against the hood. “Don’t. Question. My. Orders,” he bit out between slams before dropping the vamp to the ground and kicking him. Spike then turned to the vamp in the passenger seat, who by that time had six quarters in her hand already held out to him.

Spike snatched the coins and fed two of them into the phone. It rang twice before connecting.

“Hello?”

“Slayer.”

“Spike! Where the hell have you–?”

“Stay inside,” he said, cutting her off. “You’ll want to keep your kiddies clear for the next couple hours or so.”

“What? What are you–?”

He hung up and got back in his car, gesturing for the convoy behind him to come along. They still had a long night ahead.


	6. Chapter 6

Buffy stared at the phone for a solid minute after Spike disconnected then slowly put it back in its cradle and looked up at her friends.

“What’s the what?” asked Dawn.

“Bad news?” enquired Willow.

“I… I don’t know.” God, why didn’t she know a damn thing? This was supposed to be her town, but nothing was even remotely in her control. “I think Spike’s back. Seems like something’s going down, except I don’t know where or when or how.” It took all of her self control not to stamp her foot like a toddler.

“Well,” said Tara. “From your vision quest, whatever it is probably has something to do with Glory. Can we maybe try and figure out where she is and go there?”

“ _Oooh_ , yes!” said Buffy. “That could actually work!” She smiled, so very relieved. “Thank you, Tara.”

Tara blushed and ducked her head while Willow stroked her arm adoringly.

“So, uh… how do we track her?” asked Xander.

“Snake!” said Buffy, suddenly giddy at the thought of a lead. And the prospect of seeing Spike again, and probably getting to punch him in the nose. Leave her out of things, would he? She’d show him!

“Huh?” said Xander.

Buffy snapped her fingers as the thoughts in her brain sped up again. “Remember Glory summoned some kind of key-sniffing snake demon before? We know the general direction it was headed. It’s not an exact location, but–”

“It’s a start,” said Giles, rising to his feet.

Buffy walked over to the weapons chest and started loading up. “Okay, let’s go.”

\---

It had taken a little digging, but Spike had found the info he needed: namely the location of Glory’s pad and her extra special weakness. Honestly, he’d been quite disappointed by how easily her worshipers had handed over the details. While they were tight-lipped towards humans, apparently relying on some kind of glamour to cover any slip-ups that did happen, the little scabs weren’t half as careful with the demon community.

Idiots.

Did they really think all of demonkind would be happy with the thought of earth being eviscerated? The hardcore ones, sure, but any of the others with half a brain had to realize they just so happened to rely on the world in question.

Speaking of questions. Spike’s bloody minions were still asking him a million bloody things. Buffy thought he had no patience, but bloody hell. It was all, ‘Why are we waiting? Can we go now? Why not? Well, what about now?’

They were making his teeth itch. He’d made an example of a few of them, but honestly the lot of them were so slow that all he was really accomplishing was diminishing his own numbers. Not that it was the poor bastards’ faults. Poorly made, they were. Spike found himself longing for the company of the rest of the Whirlwind because, assholes though they were, at least they could follow a sodding plan.

“One more time,” he said through gritted teeth. “You keep your peepers on that door. The second one of Glory’s lot comes out to pick up the paper, empty the trash, or whatever the fuck it is they do, you grab them. Right quick, okay? Don’t let them squeal and alert the others.”

He watched the face of the vamp on his right to make sure she’d absorbed that portion of the plan before continuing his repetition of the rest. “When minion number two comes out to check on the first one, you grab him too. Now, you.” Spike turned to his B team. “You scout around the other side and give me the signal the second good old Ben comes in from work, yeah? Stay back and don’t be seen. And for the love of god put down the chips or I’ll chop your fingers off!”

Mercifully, the rustling of crisp packets ceased. Spike took a breath and asked himself again if he was doing the right thing not running the plan past Buffy. He doubted she’d go for it, especially seeing as she would be under the effect of the damn glamour and wouldn’t be able to grasp the key part of the whole thing. Wasn’t fair. Slayers should be immune to such things, as far as he saw it. They were human, yeah, but more than that too.

He closed his eyes, mentally kicking himself. _When did I start caring about fair, eh?_

The exterior door opened and out came a minion, right on schedule. _Good_ , thought Spike. Being surrounded by questions was taking its toll on him and he was damn near close to calling the whole thing off. Except the image of Dawn’s face, simultaneously furious and entirely disillusioned with him, swam to the forefront of his mind and he knew he had to try.

To think he’d never see her again. Never see Buffy…. Spike’s insides squirmed and he had to put all of his focus into supervising his minions taking out Glory’s. He was just wondering how many he could pick off before Ben appeared when, lo and behold, the intern himself crossed in front of the building and Spike’s B team started gesturing wildly at him.

He rolled his eyes and told them to cover the exits instead.

“But don’t you need us to tell you when he comes back?” one of them asked.

“Tell you what,” said Spike. “He comes out of that building again, you just have a go.”

The goon smiled and turned proudly to his friends, as if Spike had bestowed some honored task upon him. Clearly, he hadn’t figured that if Ben made it out alive, there wasn’t a hope in hell for any of them. Literally.

But enough stalling. Spike called the order for Team A to go inside and take out as many more minions as they could without alerting Ben.

“What about you?” asked the female vamp on his right – the only one with more than a single brain cell.

“I’ll be dealing with Ben himself,” he told her. “Make sure everyone stays out of my way.” She nodded and they headed inside.

It took exactly two minutes for all hell to break loose, with minions – both Spike’s and Glory’s – running all around the place, making enough noise to wake the dead.

Ben opened a door to look into the hall and was halfway through asking what was happening when Spike leapt on him. The force of his body weight pushed Ben back inside the room, but Spike knew the element of surprise would soon wear off. Not allowing himself to second-guess himself a moment longer, he wrapped his forearm around Ben’s throat and leaned all his pressure on it.

The intern wriggled against him, struggling to get free and put air back in his lungs, but Spike couldn’t let that happen. As Ben staggered around, he jumped on his back and wound his legs around his middle, piggyback style. Just as Spike was sure he’d only gone and bloody well done it, Ben started wriggling in a different way, his skin vibrating and strength growing.

Shit.

The she-beast was coming out to play. That wouldn’t do at all. Knowing that he didn’t stand a chance against Glory herself, Spike redoubled his efforts to kill Ben before his transition completed. There was only one thing for it.

Spike vamped out and went right for the jugular, ripping and tearing flesh and trying to spill as much blood as possible. God, it was awful. It tasted rank. Off. Vaguely alkaline. It burned his mouth but Spike bit harder, his hands scrabbling to keep hold of Glory. She was almost fully in her own form now.

The last thing Spike remembered as she finished the process was her ripping his arm from across her chest, snapping it like a twig, and him dropping to the floor like a bloody fly.


	7. Chapter 7

_Oh, god, I’m too late!_

Buffy strode through the carnage of Glory’s apartment, staking vampires and stabbing demons left and right, but not diverging from her path once. The gang kept well behind her, taking care of stragglers as she made a beeline for where the majority of the screaming was coming from.

She passed through a doorway into the lounge area and there he was.

Spike was on the floor, writhing around, though she was pretty sure he was unconscious. And next to him was Ben, dying but not quite dead.

Her heart all but stopped. There was blood everywhere, the most distinct trail from Spike’s mouth to Ben’s throat. Or what was left of it.

“Buffy?” Ben rasped, reaching out a hand. She didn’t know how he could see her through glazed eyes or how his voice even worked, but despite his state and the fact that Spike was clearly the one responsible for it, Buffy was torn between comforting Ben in his last moments or going to check on Spike and trying to manage his pain, somehow.

It was too much. Death was way too real, now. This wasn’t like staking fledglings and stabbing minions, these were people Buffy knew. She cast her eyes again at Spike and swallowed. They were people she… cared about.

Suddenly feeling entirely out of her depth, Buffy turned around and was relieved to find Willow and Tara coming up behind her. They seemed to understand the difficulty of the situation, even though Buffy wasn’t sure she understood it herself. She watched as Tara went to Spike and whispered words over him that stopped him yelling, she watched as Willow comforted Ben, and she stood there frozen, unable to do a damn thing herself even as Giles and Xander fought their way into the room, closing and blocking the door behind them.

“Good lord!” exclaimed Giles when he got his breath back. “What on earth happened?”

Buffy shook her head, not able to form words. Spike had attacked someone. A human. She didn’t know how, or why. Why was Ben in Glory’s apartment? And how did Spike bite him with his chip supposedly holding him back? There had to be more to it. There had to, but she couldn’t–

“W-we need to get out of here,” she managed finally. “Glory could be back any minute.”

Ben tried to say something but could only make a choked sound.

Almost at the same time, Spike gasped, spluttered, and sat up, using Tara for support. He looked ill. Somehow worse than Ben, which didn’t seem possible. It was a night of impossible things. A lifetime.

Buffy’s shock turned to anger in her blood and she stomped up to him and jabbed a finger. “What the hell did you do? How– how could you?” she demanded and, god, she was crying. She tried so hard not to cry, but it wasn’t working. Spike had killed someone and now she’d have to kill him. The evil bastard. Just when she was starting to feel like–

“Glory!” he said suddenly, properly coming back to himself for the first time since opening his eyes.

Buffy instinctively whipped around, expecting the doors to blast open and the Hellgod to walk in, but nothing happened. She allowed herself a breath and turned back to Spike. Yes, she’d have to kill him, but she was damn well going to get answers from him first.

She watched as Spike’s eyes darted around the room until landing on Ben. He sighed, then – a huge, relieved breath – and slumped against the wall. He was still for a full second before twitching again, his eyes bugging out.

“What the–?” He put a hand to his chest and blinked.

It was official. Either he’d lost it, or Buffy had. She couldn’t honestly remember the last time things made sense, so maybe it really was her. 

She said his name to get his attention. “What. About. Glory?”

“She’s gone,” said Spike. “Bit’s safe.”

Buffy stared at him and his eyes clouded for a moment, then it looked like something dawned on him. He took a breath and then met her gaze evenly. 

“I killed your Hellgod,” he clarified, then added something else that didn’t land in Buffy’s brain. It was the weirdest sensation, like the info was there but she wasn’t able to grasp it, and then it was gone again. 

Buffy pressed a hand to her temple and tried again. “Why?” she demanded, as loudly and as clearly as she could. “Why him?”

Spike’s hands stilled, where a moment before he’d been patting himself down all over, and his eyes raised to meet hers again. “Buffy,” he said, like her name was a prayer. Her resolve to hate him wavered and she fought to keep it intact. Because he couldn’t do this to her. He couldn’t kill people and still have her feel for him, because goddamn it she did feel and–

“Why?” she repeated, her teeth gritted.

Spike’s expression turned distressed, but she couldn’t figure out why. Buffy felt herself close to snapping, ready to pummel answers out of him when Ben made a sick gurgling noise and something in her brain shifted, finally settling. She forced a little more breath into her lungs and took a sideways glance at Willow, who shook her head. So that was it, Ben was really gone. 

Again, Buffy’s eyes tracked to where he lay. Willow sat back from him a little. 

“Ben… was Glory?” Buffy questioned, barely able to believe it. 

Giles stepped forward, no doubt ready to strike up a much more effective interrogation, but Buffy held up a hand to still him.

“We need to get out of here,” she reiterated, her tone cold, all of the emotion warring inside of her shut out of it. “Spike, can you walk?”

He looked at his legs as if asking them the same question, then back at her as if both they and he didn’t know the answer.

“Giles,” said Buffy, “can you make sure everyone’s cleared out and get the car ready?”

He nodded and the gang headed out behind him, leaving her and Spike alone. She leaned closer to him, hands shaking.

Spike started laughing, then coughing, but the choked gasps did nothing to curtail his mirth. “I actually did it. I actually bloody did!”

Buffy’s jaw clenched. She had a million questions of her own, and she was pretty sure only some of them would be the same as Giles’, but they could wait as well as his. Right now, she was too busy trying not to be sick; too relieved in knowing that Ben wasn’t just some random human Spike had hunted; too shocked to believe Dawn might really be safe; too terrified to think that she might have lost Spike; that she could have staked him herself, even, if she hadn’t initially frozen in fear.

“Spike?” she questioned, and he looked up at her again with one of those looks. He stopped laughing but didn’t say anything. “Spike,” Buffy repeated, struggling for her next line. She needed to get him up and out of there. She needed to go somewhere safe to think, and process, before finding out the rest of whatever happened and then processing that, too.

She needed to know he was okay.

“Are you… safe?” she asked.

He paused, visibly pondering the question – the many different interpretations of it – and Buffy watched, unsure which one he would land on, because she didn’t have the first clue which answer she needed to hear most.

She was surprised when, after a long time of looking utterly lost, he took her hand instead of saying anything at all. She was about to snatch it back – snap at him for still putting her through the wringer – when he pressed it to his chest and she felt it.

Buffy gasped.

“That bitch,” said Spike. “She– her blood… did something to me.”

“Y-you’re freaking me out,” Buffy whispered, but she didn’t take her hand away. She couldn’t. She needed something to ground her in the madness swirling all around in every direction.

“ _I’m_ freaking _you_ out?” exclaimed Spike. “How do you think I feel? My bloody heart is beating!”


	8. Chapter 8

Spike was experiencing a new kind of overwhelmed feeling, though he didn’t rightly know if that was more to do with the sudden appearance of his pulse or the fact that Buffy was still touching him.

“How?” she asked, her eyes wide and voice still low, almost like she was scared of it.

“Search me,” he replied. “It started after I bit her. Or, er….” He gestured to Ben. “Him. _Them_.”

Buffy finally pulled back her hand and Spike cursed himself for breaking the moment. He wanted to catch it up again and pull her close, but of course that wouldn’t fly. He wasn’t honestly sure she still wasn’t planning to stake him.

“Here.” Buffy wiped her hand on her jeans and held it out to him again, offering to pull him up. He took it, the oddness of the situation hitting him afresh at the change in feel of his flesh against hers. He was warming up, meaning she suddenly didn’t seem so scorching in comparison.

He wasn’t sure he liked it.

“What’s wrong?” asked Buffy. She must have caught the look on his face. He’d never been great at hiding his emotions.

“Lot to take in,” he hedged.

She nodded and dropped his hand again the second he was steady on his feet. They walked out of the building and over to Giles’ car in silence, the cool night air on Spike’s face only giving him momentary pause. He’d have to get used to so many things being different now, he supposed.

Buffy put her weapons in the car’s boot and then walked around to the front. She leaned her head toward the driver’s window, said something to Giles that Spike wasn’t listening to, then looked back at him with a frown and stood straight again. It was then Spike realized there wasn’t room in the car for him.

Well, fine. He’d done his bit and would bloody well just go on his merry way, then; figure out what was going on with himself all on his own. Spike rolled his shoulders and took off walking without a word only for the Slayer to fall into step with him a moment later.

He paused and looked at her.

“What?” she said. “You couldn’t wait two minutes?”

While he struggled to reply, she started walking and he then had to catch up with her. She was headed towards her house, not his crypt, he noted. That made sense – for her – except for the fact that she was clearly expecting them to walk together, which meant… what, exactly?

He knew better than to ask. But while he was thinking about questions…. “How come you didn’t tell them?” he wondered aloud.

Buffy hesitated. “It’s late,” she said finally. “We can deal with it tomorrow. Whatever _it_ is.”

Spike bobbed his head but she wasn’t looking at him. Her back was held straight and fists were clenched.

“Listen, Slayer…” he began and she finally turned to him, the closed-off look on her face making the part of his brain responsible for words come to an abrupt halt a second time that night.

When the silence between them went on too long, she took a deep breath, faced front again and said, “Don’t do that again, okay?”

“Don’t what?” Spike questioned, utterly lost. _Don’t kill? Don’t save Dawn?_ He couldn’t imagine she meant that.

“No running off and executing plans without me,” she clarified.

“Oh,” he said. “Right, yeah.” _She wants to fight alongside me, or just not be left out of things?_ He didn’t dare hope the former.

“No,” said Buffy. She’d stopped walking again and was looking at him pointedly. “You need to promise me.”

Spike’s heart swelled, just looking at how determined she was. And it was a long damn time since that swelling had been literal. “I swear it,” he vowed, pleased to see the tension in her shoulders slack a little.

“Thank you,” she said, which he was sure was a first for her, at least where he was concerned. It really hit him then how hard she was trying to get past her natural inclination to throw barbs his way. He understood that, having had to learn how to rein himself in with her all the time. Or some of the time. It was still fifty/fifty, but he was trying.

“I just figured you’d been through enough,” he confessed. “Wanted to do something for you. Wasn’t that I thought you weren’t up to it.”

Buffy blushed a little. “I appreciate that,” she said and they fell into silence for a few more blocks. Then, “Do you think you’ll be well enough to patrol with me soon?” she asked.

Spike recognized it for the olive branch it was and leapt at it like a dog. “Any time, Slayer. I’m yours.”

“Good,” she said, meeting his eyes. Was there a spark there, or was he imagining it? “Because some idiot brought two hundred vampires to my town!” she finished.

Spike blanched. “Oh. Err… that.”

She smacked him lightly but her face broke into a smile.

“Hey, mind the head!” he scolded. “It’s delicate.”

“Certainly soft,” agreed Buffy and he smiled back despite himself. Maybe they didn’t have to hold back all of the snark to get along after all.

“You know it wasn’t a full two hundred,” he said conversationally. “More like one-fifty, and that was before I offed a few.”

“I killed a bunch already, too,” said Buffy. “But I still don’t know what you were thinking. You couldn’t just have bribed the demons already here?”

“Are you mental?” exclaimed Spike. “They all hate me.”

“Well, what was your big plan for after Glory was gone?”

He shrugged. “Figured the new vamps would wipe out the local ones for the territory.”

Buffy’s glared but there was no real heat behind it. “You really didn’t think this through at all, did you?”

He sighed, unhappy the conversation was heading back to uncomfortable territory. “I was grieving, all right? Best I could reason was that it wouldn’t matter how many vamps were where if Glory got her bloody way.”

At that, Buffy all but sagged and he felt like the biggest prick in the world for bringing up any mention of Joyce, implicit or not.

“I was mad at you for not being at the funeral,” admitted Buffy, surprising him all over again.

“I’m sorry,” he told her, earnestly.

“Dawn was mad at you, too,” she added, and he smiled, because that meant he stood a chance of the Bit forgiving him, and didn’t that just make the world all right again? But before he got ahead of himself….

“Listen, Buffy, I need to tell you something.”

“Yeah?” She tensed up again.

He closed his eyes, took a breath, and just said it: “I got my chip taken out.”

Buffy stopped dead.

Spike dared to open his eyes to try reading her face, but as he was busy doing that, he was assaulted from behind. 


	9. Chapter 9

Buffy’s shock at hearing about Spike’s chip turned into shock at seeing her sister run down the sidewalk and throw her arms around him, pinning his arms to his sides.

She couldn’t help it, but the look of bewilderment on his face brought on a giggle fit. Spike was flailing around, trying to shake Dawn off, still clearly not having realized it was her or what was happening. Finally, he caught hold of himself enough to still and awkwardly look back over his shoulder.

He sighed at the sight of long brown hair. “Bloody hell, Niblet! You trying to give me a heart attack?”

She beamed up at him, then rearranged herself so he could hold her back.

“The gang told me what you did,” she said. “Thank you.”

Buffy’s heart did a somersault at the look on Spike’s face in response to that. It was then she knew with complete certainty that he loved her family as much as her. Like, she’d always kind of known, but seeing it written right across his face in huge letters was different. He was love, and he was death, and he’d given this incredible gift to all of them. Suddenly, Buffy found herself wanting to hug him, too. She mentally took back every bad thought she’d had about the vision guest.

“You were just waiting until we turned into the street so you could jump us?” Spike asked.

“Uh-huh,” said Dawn, still smiling like a goon. “Took you long enough!”

Buffy had to look away. It was the first time she’d seen Dawn properly happy since before she told her about Mom and it… didn’t hurt, exactly. But it wasn’t easy to watch at the same time. Just the reminder, she supposed. They were everywhere, but they were getting fewer and farther between and, as much as grieving sucked, Buffy didn’t want it to stop because then her mom would really be gone and– and what then?

She had to close her eyes and force her breathing to slow. When they opened again, she found both Dawn and Spike staring back at her.

“You okay?” asked Dawn. 

“Yeah,” said Buffy, unconvincingly. She tried again. “Yes, I’m fine. Can we, uh… can we get a moment?”

Dawn nodded. “Sure thing.”

“Oh, and tell Anya I said thanks for staying with you while we stormed Glory’s. A-and tell the gang we need a Scooby Meeting tomorrow.”

Dawn raised an eyebrow. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, uh….” Buffy wracked her brain for something that would assert her dominance back in the conversation. “Do your homework and go to bed.”

Dawn rolled her eyes and called her a freak, in a good-natured kind of way, but did as she asked, which was the best Buffy could have hoped for. At least she knew how to handle her as a bratty younger sister. The mature young lady she was turning into would take some getting used to.

“She’s brilliant, ain’t she?” said Spike, watching her go. “Bloody menace, but brilliant. Strong grip.”

Just like that, Buffy felt at ease again. She was so grateful for that. Which reminded her…. “Thank you, Spike. For saving her. I… it means a lot, and I should have said it before.”

“No worries, Slayer,” he said. But despite how casual the words were, the look in his eyes was anything but. The look told her he’d do it again in a heartbeat, and then that reminded her of his actual heartbeat – of feeling it under her palm – and suddenly she needed to take deep breaths again.

“Can we sit?” she asked, gesturing for them to go around back to the porch.

He nodded and she led the way, pulling her knees to her chest the moment they were settled. “I should also apologize for the locking you out thing.”

“Bloody hell,” said Spike. “Thanks _and_ an apology? I guess I really am dead.” 

Buffy elbowed him. “Don’t joke.”

He grinned and admitted there may “possibly” have been wrongdoing on his side, too.

“Oh, possibly, huh?” She tried hard not to pinch him. All she wanted to do all of a sudden was touch him all over in lots of different ways, but she was struggling to keep it PG even in her head, so it all ended up violent in reality. Buffy rolled her eyes – both at him and herself – because who else would even have that problem?

“Spike, I….”

He held up a hand and she paused.

Spike was looking out at the horizon, his eyes narrowed. Buffy looked too, wondering what he was seeing, or maybe hearing, when she realized the sky was getting light.

_Shit!_ She grabbed his hand and tried to pull him towards the house, mad at herself for not realizing how late it was, but he wouldn’t budge.

She pulled harder. Because there was no way she could lose him now. No way! “Spike, _please_!” she pleaded, not caring how desperate she sounded.

He put his free hand on top of the one gripping his and met her gaze again. “Buffy, it’s okay.”

She shook her head, still thinking he’d made his peace and was ready to just dust there right in front of her, but his face was calm. Serene, even.

He looked back at the horizon and, because she couldn’t move him, she was forced to look again too. Spike lifted his hand off hers and held it out to the sun.

It wasn’t sizzling.

Was that because his heart was beating? Was he fully human now? Buffy had kind of figured that whatever was going on, it was something happening to his vampire body. She hadn’t considered he wouldn’t actually be a vamp any more.

“Spike, what–?”

He hushed her gently, smiling at the sight of his glowing skin. “I can’t wait to see if I freckle.”

Buffy stared at him, still not able to take any of it in. They sat for a long time as the sun came the rest of the way up and he just basked in it.

“Been too long,” he said after a while. “Might be a bit lacking in Vitamin D.”

“How can you joke about this?” asked Buffy.

He looked at her, his eyes soft. “Who’s joking?”

She bit her lip. “Spike, can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” he said, like it was all just so easy for him.

Buffy took her time trying to find the right words. “The Glory thing,” she said finally. “How did you know it would work? I mean, what made you think you even stood a chance? You couldn’t have known you’d survive.”

His features clouded at that and she mentally kicked herself. He’d been looking so pretty, before; so blissed out and in the moment.

“I didn’t,” he said. “Thought you knew that.”

“You… didn’t?” Buffy questioned. What was he saying?

“Buffy,” he said, taking her hand. “When I got the chip out… I thought it was a death sentence. Then….” He winced. “Then I heard about Joyce, and I thought, if I’m gonna die, I might as well go out doin’ something worthwhile, right? Might as well go for broke. Had to try. For Dawn.”

A tear tracked down her cheek and he lightly brushed it away. They were so close, all she had to do was lean in a little, and then her lips were touching his and, _god_ , it was perfect!

“You trying to sacrifice Drusilla,” she said when they pulled back. “That didn’t mean anything to me. But… but what you did for us… that was real. I won’t forget it.”


	10. Chapter 10

Spike woke up slowly. His body was aching all over, but he couldn’t help but feel immensely satisfied. Even if he was stuffed awkwardly against Buffy’s couch cushions. The memory of her kiss came back to him and he smiled, more happy than he’d been in decades.

“God,” said Buffy. “You sleep like the dead.”

Spike opened his eyes and sat up, looking towards the doorway where she stood, radiant.

“You were out a really long time.”

“Guess I needed to recover,” said Spike, eyeing the mug of blood she’d set out for him.

“I warmed it up,” said Buffy. “But that was a little while ago. Hopefully it’s still okay.”

Damn. Such a small gesture and yet he felt warmed all over by it. Spike went to lift the mug to his lips but paused when he caught sight of Buffy’s face again. She was frowning all of a sudden, looking vaguely ill.

“God, I didn’t even think!”

“Eh?”

She shook her head. “This is still a lot to get used to.”

Spike’s head tilted to the side. “What are you on about?”

“The blood. You still…?” She looked between him and the mug. “I’m confused. I got the blood without thinking, but… do you still actually want to drink it? Are you still part vampire or not?”

He paused and considered the mug again himself. His instinct was telling him to drink it, but maybe that was just force of habit.

“Can you still fang out?” asked Buffy, stepping closer.

“No idea,” he said, but he tried and he could. Spike wasn’t sure exactly how he felt about that. He tried to figure it out but was distracted by Buffy staring at him. Again.

“What?”

“Your eyes!”

He raised a hand to his forehead, defensive. “What about them?”

“They’re blue!” exclaimed Buffy. “Usually when you vamp out, they’re all yellow.”

Huh. That was weird.

Spike downed his blood, stood up, and made for the stairs, ignoring the Slayer calling after him. She followed, catching up as he reached the bathroom and stared into the mirror.

Still no reflection.

“Weird,” said Buffy.

“You’re telling me,” said Spike, unsure why he felt disappointed.

“You know what this means,” she continued.

He turned around to look at her. “Not the faintest clue.”

“It means,” said Buffy, “that we’ve gotta test you out – all your old abilities to see which ones you still have.”

Well, all right. He could get on board with that. Sparring with Buffy was one of the highlights of his long, damned existence. “Where do we start?”

“Back yard?” asked Buffy. “Assuming your new affinity for the sun hasn’t vanished.”

“Fine by me.” He followed her out and yeah, still wasn’t burning. “This is bloody weird.”

“Totally,” said Buffy, spinning around and trying to knock him back with a high kick.

He caught her leg and spun her back the other way. “Fun, though,” he noted.

She smiled and dodged a left hook. “Yeah, it is.”

\---

Giles pinched the bridge of his nose. “What are you saying, exactly?”

“Spike’s still speedy,” said Buffy. “Not as strong as he was, but maybe he still needs to heal more. Still way more buff than a human.”

“Buff, am I?” said Spike, rolling his tongue behind his teeth suggestively.

Buffy blushed and looked away. He kept doing that and she was having a hard time not reacting. Things had gotten really heated during their workout, and she’d almost kissed him again – a way less innocent kind of kiss than the first one had been – but then Dawn came out and told them the gang had arrived.

Buffy had looked at her watch and, wow, yeah. They’d been outside a lot longer than she realized. “Maybe you should start wearing sunscreen,” she said to Spike as they headed back inside. “You’re really pale.” And she had plans to spar outside with him a _lot_ more, going forward.

Spike scoffed but didn’t actually disagree with her. That was weirdly nice, too.

“So, you’re saying he has a heartbeat?” said Giles, bringing Buffy back to the here and now. “Why didn’t you tell us this last night?”

She shrugged, a little uncomfortable with the question. She hadn’t wanted to get into it. Not then. There was already way too much going on inside her head, and she hadn’t figured out how she felt about any of it. “We were all pretty wiped,” Buffy said at last. Dawn snickered and she looked up at her. “What?”

“You were wiped?” Dawn questioned. “Is that why you sat outside all night, kissing?”

Buffy’s eyes bugged out and Xander made a choking noise. “Dawn!”

“What? I came down for a glass of milk. The sun was up and everything.”

Buffy’s face was blazing hot. “We were talking,” she said in a harsh whisper. “There was one kiss. One!”

Dawn grinned and Giles held up a hand. “You’re saying Spike’s also invulnerable to daylight?”

_Oh._ Buffy blanched. “Did I leave that part out?”

Giles sighed and got her to start again from the beginning. After they went through everything they’d gathered from the intensive sparring session – that Spike still had really good hearing, and could heal fast but not, like, super-fast – three times, Giles sat down and got really quiet. It looked like he was doing advanced calculus in his head, and that made Buffy nervous, but eventually he looked up again and seemed ready to speak.

Buffy held her breath.

“I can look up my books,” said Giles. “And I assure you I most certainly will, but I can already tell you this is unprecedented. I can’t imagine we’ll find much on the matter at all.”

Buffy bit her lip. “So… what does that mean?” she asked. “Specifically.”

“I think it means I play things by ear,” said Spike. “That right, watcher?”

Giles nodded. “My best guess at this stage is that Glory’s blood physiologically changed Spike into some kind of vampire/human hybrid.”

"A… manpire?" questioned Buffy. She turned to Spike. "You're a manpire!”

Spike glowered at her, clearly not impressed with the title.

“Do we know if it’s permanent?” asked Willow.

“Honestly?” said Giles. “I haven’t the faintest idea. But, if it is, I suspect Spike will start to age again. That would leave him not unlike Buffy, in that regard.”

Wow. Okay. She hadn’t considered that at all. But it was kind of… exciting? The thought that she might actually get to grow old with someone. She shook her head, knowing she was getting ahead of herself.

Anya brought her straight back to earth by asking, “What do you think it means for his soul?”

Everyone turned to look at her and she stared back. “What? I’m just asking.”

Giles frowned. “As I’ve already said, I don’t have answers to any of this.” Buffy sighed, ready to try and accept uncertainty all over again when he said, “But….”

“But?” she questioned. “There’s a but?”

Spike and Xander chuckled and she rolled her eyes at both of them.

Giles cleared his throat. “ _But_ ,” he pressed on, “I don’t see any reason why the status of Spike’s soul would have changed. As we know, there are plenty of humans walking around without any to begin with.”

Anya nodded while everyone else looked around, all open-mouthed and raised eyebrows. Had they known that? It kinda felt like new information to Buffy. She caught Spike’s eye and exchanged a meaningful look, though she wasn’t exactly sure what the meaning was.

Buffy bit her lip again and broke his gaze, swiftly wrapping up the meeting. She had the deepest need to get Spike alone again. Except maybe this time she’d be more wary about Dawn eavesdropping on them.


	11. Chapter 11

Spike watched Buffy’s merry band of friends leave, he heard her give Dawn a swift talking-to about privacy, and he stood there, not sure what to do with himself. He was busy trying to decide if he was supposed to be making himself as scarce as everyone else when the phone rang.

Buffy walked back into the living room and picked it up, then immediately held it away from her ear again. “Whoa, Angel! Could you tone it down?”

Spike acquired himself a sudden sinking feeling. He listened as Angel ranted about needing to find him, wanting to kill him and, finally, concluded by asking Buffy if she knew where he was.

Buffy looked at Spike and he swallowed. “Uh, here,” she said, handing the phone over.

“’Ello, Peaches.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Spike?”

“Yeah.”

“Spike! What are you doing at Buffy’s house?”

“I, uh… well.” He looked at Buffy and she raised her eyebrows at him. “We’re hangin’ out, init?”

Angel swore. “This is too much. First you come here and you steal from me, and then– what?” There was another pause. “Cordelia, not now. I’m trying to– no. That wasn’t–” He groaned, muttered, “Hang on,” into the phone and promptly hung up.

Both Buffy and Spike stared at the handset. Before either he could explain or she could ask, it rang again. Spike gingerly put it back to his ear, wondering what on earth was happening now.

“Hello?” That was distinctly not Angel.

“Who’s–?” Spike began. 

“Cordelia,” she said, cutting him off. “Yeah, hi. Did I just overhear Angel saying you robbed him?”

“Uh….” Spike snuck another look at Buffy, who crossed her arms. “Yes?”

“That rat bastard! How much did you get? Was it a lot?”

“Fair bit,” Spike hedged.

Cordelia blew out a breath. “I can’t believe this. He had cash and was holding out on us this whole time!” In the background, Spike just about made out Angel protesting that his money and the agency’s money were separate and– “Can it!” Cordelia snapped at him. To Spike she added, “Don’t worry about him coming there. He won’t be doing anything when I’m done with him.” And she hung up, too.

Spike blinked at the phone for a second, then handed it back to Buffy.

“You robbed Angel?” she inquired.

Spike flashed her what he hoped was his most winning smile. “Had to pay the minions something, right? Except….” He felt around in his duster pockets and brought out a huge wad of cash, which he then handed to Buffy. “I guess I never actually got to the paying stage. Maybe you could send Cordelia a little. Bird needs everything she can get, having to put up with that tosser.”

Buffy stared at the money for a long time before finally shaking her head and laughing. To say Spike was surprised by the reaction was an understatement. He was _beyond_ surprised. And more than a little hopeful. Just how far did her good grace extend?

“You’re really not gonna stake me?”

“Please,” said Buffy. “Angel’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.”

“I’m not sure I fancy his chances against Cordelia,” said Spike, and Buffy laughed again. He could get used to that.

“You know, you’re probably right,” she allowed.

Spike smiled at her and the moment went on a little longer, but then the silence got too much and he was left wondering what the next move was again. He was sure he’d been feeling tension with Buffy all day – the good kind – but he’d thought that before, and he’d been wrong before, too. Damn well didn’t want to mess up again.

He sighed, chocking it all up to her just being grateful for the Glory thing. Was probably for the best to leave it, he told himself. If anything happened, it might be misconstrued as him taking advantage of Buffy off the back of her losing Joyce, and he didn’t want that. He wasn’t bloody Angel.

“Hey,” said Buffy, stepping close and placing two fingers to his temple. “Looks like there’s a lot going on in there.”

Spike scoffed. “You could say that.”

She smiled wryly. “Do I wanna know?”

He wet his lower lip, a natural instinct of her being so near.

“Well?” Buffy pressed.

Spike hesitated a moment longer then gave in. Because how could he do anything else? He’d give up the world for the lady. Near damn well had.

So he told her, and she laughed again, but it was different.

“Oh, I’m well aware you’re not Angel,” she said.

Suddenly, Anya’s question about souls flashed in Spike’s mind and all the good feeling he’d shored up overnight vanished. He’d always figured his lack of a soul would be a deal-breaker, and– wait a second. Buffy was smiling at him. Why was she smiling? She still hadn’t stepped away. In fact, she was leaning closer, her eyes sliding closed.

_What in the hell?_

Spike stepped away, lost all over again. “Buffy?”

Her eyes got wide, suddenly, and she blushed. Again. She’d been doing that a lot, the past day. But what did it mean?

“You look spooked,” she said, shy.

“I bloody well am spooked!” he admitted.

“Is the thought of kissing me really that scary? I thought you wanted–?”

“ _Wanted?_ ” repeated Spike. Bloody hell. He was high off her scent. His brain going doolally. “Kissing you? Buffy!” He took a deep breath, in through his nose, held it, and then blew it out slow through his mouth. “What does any of it mean?”

\---

Buffy braced herself, because it was now or never. She’d spent all day waiting for Spike to make some kind of move, and maybe it served her right that he wouldn’t, given how the last time went. She just had to suck it up and put it out there.

“It means… love,” she said bravely.

“Love?” Spike spluttered. “Me? And y-you?”

Buffy raised a shoulder. “Sure, it’s weird. I’m weird, and you’re _definitely_ weird, especially now, but….” She looked at him seriously, dropping the nonchalant act. “Yeah, it’s love.”

He silently opened and closed his mouth a few times, then put his hands on her shoulders as if to steady himself. “This is real?”

“If you want it to be,” said Buffy, hoping to God he hadn’t changed his mind about her and that all her bravery was gonna get her was some brand-new humiliating experiences.

“Want?” Spike repeated, the word sounding heady. “Bloody hell, Buffy!” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her like there was no tomorrow. Which there actually would be, thanks to him.

Buffy very much wanted to spend all of her days with him, going forward, and now it seemed like they stood a real chance. She kissed him and kissed him and got entirely lost. And when they pulled apart, she told him she loved him again; properly, that time. And he said it back and– God!

It was heaven.


	12. Epilogue

Spike hissed and leaned away.

“Oh, honestly,” said Giles. “Must you be so dramatic every time?”

Spike glared at him, then down at the stethoscope. “It’s cold.”

“I do believe the phrase ‘get over it’ is appropriate here. Now come along. Let me record your resting heart rate and we can both get on with the rest of our day.”

“Fine.” Spike let him take the stupid reading. “Though I don’t know why your bothering. It’s been six months and there’s been no change. I’m a bloody manpire, okay? Here to stay.” It was a bloody ridiculous name, but one that had infuriatingly stuck. Another thing Spike just had to get used to.

Giles gave him his best long-suffering look and said, for the hundredth time, “I am simply doing as Buffy requested. She is determined that you have regular checkups and that I keep track of the results, even if they are unchanging. Now, deep breath in.”

Spike went through the motions of breaths and pauses, thinking about Buffy and her determination as he did so. He couldn’t deny how touched he was by her caring so much, but he’d really rather she was the one putting cold objects against his bare chest.

Speak of the devil….

Buffy knocked on the training room door once then strode in. She was wearing a short skirt, a silky-looking top with plunging neckline, and killer heels. “Is it my turn yet?” she asked, hands on hips.

Giles sighed and finally put his stethoscope away. “It is now you’ve ruined the final reading. There’s no way I’ll get a resting heartrate out of him now.”

Buffy looked down at her outfit and blushed.

Spike grinned wolfishly and slid off the examination table they’d set off to the side of the room. He lifted his shirt but Buffy gave the slightest shake of her head. The shirt was swiftly tossed aside and Spike’s grin got all the wider.

He did so very much enjoy his physicals.

“If you’ll kindly wait until I leave the room before devouring each other, it would be most appreciated,” said Giles.

Buffy smiled guiltily at him. “Thanks, Giles.”

“Don’t mention it,” he replied. “Please.”

Spike watched him go. The second the door was closed behind him, he pounced.

Buffy dodged and laughed, but it wasn’t long until they were wrestling on the exercise mats, both completely breathless.

“I missed you,” said Spike against Buffy’s neck.

“I can tell,” she said, grinding up against him. “It’s only been a couple hours.”

“Too bloody long,” he exclaimed, and she agreed. Spike pulled back a little to look at her. He could never get enough of looking at her. “You wear the outfit just for me?”

“Duh!” she said, beaming. “You like it?”

He slid her hand to the bulge in his pants and groaned. “Can’t you tell?”

Buffy leaned up and kissed him. A long, searing kiss. “I love you.”

Spike’s heart fluttered. “Love you too. Always.”


End file.
